Because a soul is a terrible thing to waste and nothing more is left
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: Because they say that a soul is a terrible thing to waste, and the question would remain for years afterwards of just how many souls were lost that day. Because they say that a soul is a terrible thing to waste, but it is pretty clear that a large number of souls were never coming back home to where they belong. And nothing more is left.


_"Behaviour is what a man does, not what he thinks, feels or believes."-Emily Dickinson_

…

Because they say that a soul is a terrible thing to waste, and the question would remain for years afterwards of just how many souls were lost that day.

_{How many dead, how many dying, and how many young lives taken far too soon because of a mad man and his mad friends, with their dark magic and dark smiles?}_

There was the comfortable silence that usually only comes at a time like this, when the dead rule and the living tremble in fear.

_{Comfortable in the sense that there was no one around to feel the tingle that comes when all life has simply just stopped…nothing moves and nothing breathes.}_

Somewhere, a boy with dark hair and green eyes tumbles in his sleep, imagining hands reaching out to him, demanding to know why he had let them die, but he has no answer.

_{There's a clock somewhere, quietly continuing in the background…tick…tick…tick…tick…can't you hear it, can't you just _see _that pendulum swing…can't you see it?}_

Somewhere, a girl shivers in the night, doing her best to keep from crying, because the memories of soft hands on the back of her neck belong to a dead girl now.

_{Isn't it just maddening how hard forgetting is sometimes, when all you want to do is shut your eyes and scream…scream until your voice runs raw and your fingers bleed.}_

Somewhere, an old man sighs, looking at a picture from only years ago, back when his family was whole and pure, and no one had ever had the ingenious idea to go fight in a bloody war.

_{He's lost two sons to the first one, and his only granddaughter in the second one, the one that he sends her off to go fight in because she swears it's the only way.}_

…

Because they say that a soul is a terrible thing to waste, but it is pretty clear that a large number of souls were never coming back home to where they belong.

_{So many mistakes they made, so many errors…so many dead that they line the floors, scattered around, some in pieces, some unrecognisable, but all very, _very _dead.}_

A baby begins to cry loudly and a light clicks on next door, tired mother stumbling to her feet as she grumbles and groans, complaining that it is too _fucking early _for this.

_{She passes by a photo from her first year at Hogwarts, barely noticing when the dark-skinned girl with shiny hair in pigtail braids waved hello…the only picture she had left of a dead young woman.}_

A dog barks, a leaf flutters in the wind, and a man is sentenced to life in Azkaban, no chance at getting out now, and he follows after the Aurors who will take him to a tiny little boat.

_{"We find you guilty of the crimes of murder, of assisting the terror group known as the Death Eaters, of fighting on the side of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, of conspiring with criminals!}_

A young bride cries on what was supposed to be her anniversary, but she is the only half that remains of a marriage, clutching his ring in one hand and the maybe-someday-baby that won't ever grow up.

_{Their wedding is mentioned briefly in the papers a few weeks afterwards, just a short paragraph detailing the event…his name is only one of many when they list the dead.}_

A girl with brown hair and a smart head curls up into a ball at the thought of the body of what had might once been her friend, recalling it fall from several floors up to land with a sickening thud.

_{Because they hadn't liked each other at school very much, to be honest, but it had never gotten bad enough that they had ever wished the other dead.}_

….

Because they say that a soul is a terrible thing to waste, and no one was quite sure that calling themselves "survivors" could really be said; who survives war, really?

_{The Muggles don't notice and don't really care, but the wizards celebrations are mixed with mourning, tears spilt for those who died and for those who never really lived.}_

Death Eaters march down streets, burning buildings and striking curses at any who dare show their faces, laughing when a woman falls down dead.

_{There are twenty of them, a group of boisterous, liquored up young men who are barely even out of Hogwarts, but are already so proud of themselves for killing a stranger.}_

Death Eaters, who are confident and rowdy and shove away an old man when he demands that they stop, demands justice that comes in the form of a green flash of light.

_{Do they really even care that by the time a year has passed, seventeen of their group will either be dead or locked up for life in Azkaban, never to see the light of day again?}_

There is a redheaded man, not yet eighteen, with a wand clutched in one hand as he avoids being seen, doing nothing and only watching alongside the others in their home.

_{It is one of his worst moments, watching that dead woman fall and that old man argue and that little girl scream, but he does nothing, like a coward.}_

And the buildings burn and burn and burn, and so many mistakes are made in an instant that there is barely enough time or enough people to remember them all.

_{Friends…enemies…siblings…father…mother…cousin…neighbour…all dead, as the smell of decay fills the air, permeating every nook and cranny until Death himself gags.}_

…

Because they say that a soul is a terrible thing to waste, but he wastes so many so quickly all in the name of a cause he can't make himself even believe in.

Because they say that a soul is a terrible thing to waste, but mistakes are still made and lives are still lost.

And nothing more is left.


End file.
